


Stars Plummet: a Christmas Story

by Peckishdragon



Category: teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: AU, Christmas, Fluff, Future Fic, Kid Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-20
Updated: 2012-12-25
Packaged: 2017-11-21 20:41:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/601856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peckishdragon/pseuds/Peckishdragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Stiles left Beacon Hills, he never thought he would be coming back. Eight years later, he is coming home for Christmas, with a small passenger in tow. Old feelings, never forgotten, are rekindled.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a short WIP that will be updated everyday until Christmas! It will have 5 chapters and most likely a short epilogue. The explicit warning will come into play later in the story! This is my first foray into writing for the Teen Wolf fandom, and my first post here.

 

Beacon Hills had not changed much in the years Stiles had been gone. There were a few new businesses that had cropped up along Main Street, but for the most part it was the same town he had fled from after high school. It was still a two-bit town, with nothing going for it. The only reason he was back was to visit his father. The sheriff had been making noise about wanting to see Stiles back in Beacon Hills for Christmas. 

Ever the dutiful son, at least when it suited his needs, Stiles had complied with the request. His father had asked very little of him since Stiles had left for college, and it seemed childish to deny him this, for reasons that no longer mattered. It wasn’t like the Hale pack had tried to get in contact with him, in the years that Stiles had been gone. 

Stiles, on his good days, thought it was because they were respecting his wishes to leave the supernatural behind him. On his bad days, he feels like the weak human that had been constantly underfoot. He fears in the bottom of his heart that the pack is glad to be rid of him, not to mention his spastic attempts to help. 

Unfortunately, what people say about good intentions and all that rot, was true. When Stiles had left Beacon Hills behind, it was with every intention of living without supernatural threats hanging over his head. Within his first week at college, a pack had found him. They had no need for a human in their midst, they had simply been drawn to the scent of an outside pack. 

The Boston pack had left him alone, for the most part. Stiles had been able to finish school and find an awesome job. On occasion though, the pack had come to him for help. A bit of research here, a pinch of Mountain Ash there. Stiles’ life was good, and the Boston pack had added to that, tremendously. They had made it fuller in ways that he wasn’t sure they realized. 

His old, trusty jeep pulled up to his childhood house. His passenger still asleep, snoring softly with her head turned into the worn leather. 

“Come on baby girl,” Stiles touched her shoulder gently. “It’s time to wake up.” 

Missouri opened her striking grey eyes slowly, weariness seeping from her very pores. “Are we there yet?” She mumbled, straightening in the seat. 

“Yeah kiddo, we’re here,” Stiles turned off the ignition. His daughter had been a trooper through the long drive from Boston to Beacon Hills. 

“Where’s poppy?” Missouri questioned roughly, her jaw gaping with a huge yawn. 

“He didn’t know when to expect us,” Stiles explained, as he helped her unbuckle her seatbelt. “We are a bit early.” 

“Well, that is cause Damian says you drive like a bat out of hell,” Missouri stated, matter of fact. 

“Language kiddo,” Stiles winced. He sounded like his father. “And you shouldn’t listen to Damian.” 

Missouri’s nose crinkled as she giggled. Stiles couldn’t help but smile back. His kid was cute as hell, and one smart cookie. Not that he could take an ounce of credit. 

He jumped out of the jeep, stretching his legs, before going over to the passenger seat to help Missouri out. At eight, she was tall for her age and more than capable. However, she was feeling rather skittish, and that made her reluctant. Missouri dreaded meeting new people, even when she was excited to meet her grandpa. 

Stiles was not sure if that was due to how her mother had raised her, or how the Boston pack had reacted to her presence. 

Missouri’s mother had been a lone omega, running for her and her daughter’s life. Missouri had been born an alpha, without a pack. Werewolves desperate for that power had been chasing her most of her life. Her mother had died, fighting to protect her, in Boston. Even though Stiles had never met the woman, he had a great respect for her. The lone omega had taken down a rogue pack of betas, before dying. 

The Boston pack had been reluctant to take Missouri in. Their pack was a young one, still unstable. For them, Missouri would have been detrimental to their growth. When they had asked Stiles to help find a home for the young alpha, he couldn’t turn them down. And he couldn’t give her up. 

Stiles had seen too much of his own past in the little girl. She was unwanted by the pack, strong yet incredibly vulnerable. It had been like looking at himself as a teenager. Stiles knew how to protect her, and he would. He would die before harm came to her. 

That however was not something they would face today. Today was meant for new beginnings. 

Sheriff Stilinski’s patrol car pulled up behind the jeep. Stiles grinned as he watched his father jump out. News still traveled at the speed of light in this town. Somebody must have seen his jeep during his meandering drive down Main Street and called his father. It was something of a comfort that some things never changed. 

Missouri hid behind him, her puckish face drawn with anxiety, her car book clenched tight in her hand. Stiles smiled at his dad, before turning to reassure his daughter. He knelt in front of her, so she could see his eyes. 

“It’s okay baby girl. That is your poppy,” Stiles smiled at the girl, projecting confidence he didn’t quite feel. He knew Missouri could hear his heartbeat, and the potential lie. “I am nervous too.” 

Missouri nodded solemnly at Stiles before stepping forward, determined to be brave. 

Stiles stood, his hand on his daughter’s shoulder, herding her forward. “Dad, may I introduce you to Missouri Stilinski, my daughter.” 

Missouri preened at the words, as she always did. It seemed to shock her that somebody would want to claim her. She had been with Stiles for three years, and she still found it wondrous. 

Stiles could only hope that the shock of it all wasn’t too much for his dad. He hadn’t been around to force feed the man salad and tofu for eight long years. And if Stiles knew his dad, he had been wolfing down greasy bacon burgers for every meal during that time. 

The sheriff did not let the shock of having an unknown granddaughter slow him down. His long legs ate up the space between him and his family, new and old. He pulled his son into his arms, crushing him tight to his chest. The sheriff had encouraged Stiles to leave Beacon Hills, wanting him away from the danger that was drawn to the Hale pack. He just hadn’t realized what it would actually entail. 

Once Stiles had left, he had stayed gone. There had been no visits home. No spring breaks listening to him and Scott play video games in the living room. Only the occasional visit to Boston, and never for more than a weekend at a time. And even those visits had tapered off. 

The things he had missed in those years. 

The sheriff pulled away from his son, wiping ineffectually at his eyes. He felt Stiles pat his back soothingly, as he looked down at his granddaughter. 

She was beautiful, a small whip of a girl with huge grey eyes. He knelt in front of her, much as his son had done only moments ago. 

“It’s nice to meet you Missouri,” the sheriff began, only to be cut off by a small body hurling forward. He was forced to hide his sniffles in his granddaughter’s dark curls, as he hugged her tight to his body. 

The sheriff stood, Missouri’s legs dangling as he continued to hold her securely with one arm. He threw his other arm around Stiles’s shoulder. 

“Come on then, let’s get you situated.” 

“Poppy, do you have chocolate?” Missouri inquired, as she clung to his neck. “Papa only lets me have it on special days.” 

The sheriff could hear Stiles choking on his laughter, as Missouri batted those dark lashes of hers at him. 

“I sure do,” The sheriff replied. “And I’ll give you as much as you want sweetheart.” 

“Dad,” Stiles started. 

“Nope, it’s a grandparent’s prerogative to spoil their grandkids.”

“Fine, but you get to deal with her when she is tearing through the house like a tornado in a trailer park.” Stiles warned. 

“Nothing I haven’t dealt with before,” the sheriff reminded his son. “It can’t be worse than you after coffee.” 

“Don’t be so sure,” Stiles muttered, as he clucked Missouri on the check with affectionate fingers. 

“Poppy you smell weird,” Missouri stated, as she snuffled against his chest. “You smell like pack, but not my pack.” 

Stiles stiffened at his daughter’s words. Had his father been sucked into the Hale pack business in his absence? The way his dad was avoiding his eyes spoke volumes. 

“Hey Missouri, why don’t I show you were your bedroom’s going to be?” Stiles forced out jovially. “It was mine when I was little.” 

“Okay papa,” Missouri wiggled out of the sheriff’s grip. “I want to see your old room.” 

Once Missouri was situated in his old room, meticulously putting her clothes away, Stiles headed back downstairs, to beard the dragon in his den. 

Stiles leaned against the doorjamb, watching his father fret about, picking up the clutter of everyday bachelor life. “So, you and the pack?” 

“Before you start, I would like to remind you that you’ve been gone for eight years, Stiles.” The sheriff paused in his half-hearted cleaning. “Things change.” 

“Things have changed drastically,” Stiles shot back. “The last time I was home, they were a pack of monsters, in your opinion.” 

“Yeah well, the pack helped me with a case,” The sheriff shrugged. “Because of Derek a lot of people were saved.” 

Stiles remained silent, his heart beating faster. He hadn’t really hoped that he could come home and not hear mention of Derek Hale, but one could always wish for the best. It had taken him years to get over the crush Stiles had had on him during his teenage years. Sometimes, even now, Stiles would wake up wondering about the man. 

“When were you planning on telling me about Missouri?” The sheriff asked, his voice gruff. 

“I was always planning on telling you dad.” Stiles sighed. “At first, I didn’t tell you because I wasn’t sure the pack would allow me to keep her.” 

“The pack?” The sheriff grumbled. “Seriously?” 

“What can I say dad? Once you’ve been touched by the supernatural, you can’t escape it.” Stiles laughed bitterly. 

“And after? It’s obvious that you two have been together for awhile.” 

“I wasn’t sure it was safe, there are– the hesitation was obvious in Stiles’ voice. “There are people after her.” 

“And by people you mean werewolves.” The sheriff stated, rather than asked. 

“That little girl is an unprotected alpha, dad.” Stiles gestured wildly. “Rogue and feral weres have been trying to kill her since birth. Her mom died protecting her.” 

“So by not telling me, you were protecting her.” Stiles’ dad always had the ability to state the obvious. 

“Not exactly,” Stiles hedged. “At first, yes. Then I just didn’t know how to tell you.” Stiles scratched his head. “Hallmark doesn’t exactly have a card for every occasion, strangely enough.” 

Stiles collapsed tiredly on the sofa. “I’ve wanted to tell you since the first day, I swear.” 

“I know son, and I know why you didn’t,” the sheriff sat down next to his son. “I understand, and I am not mad.” 

Stiles felt a weight he hadn’t realized he was carrying, dissipate. “Thank you dad.” 

“However, I do expect that I get to see her, a lot. Like everyday a lot.” The sheriff continued. “I want my family close.” 

“Lucky for both of us then, that I can work from anywhere,” Stiles laughed. 

“And the pack, will they allow it?” The sheriff cringed at the words. 

“The Boston pack has no control over me. I am not a part of their pack, and neither is Missouri.” Stiles had a rather familiar, mulish expression on his mobile face. “We answer to nobody.” 

“What about Derek’s pack?” 

“As long as I stay out of their way, I am sure they’ll stay out of mine,” Stiles muttered. “It shouldn’t be terribly hard.” 

The sheriff opened his mouth, only to close it again as Missouri thundered down the stairs, her fangs distended. 

“What is baby girl?” Stiles inquired, getting to his feet. 

“Werewolves,” Missouri hissed, more kittenish than wolfish.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry this is posted a bit late in the evening. I just got home from a hellishly long day at work! But I made it! Enjoy!

The sheriff stared, flabbergasted, as Missouri tried to growl menacingly at the closed door. She was about as scary as a wet duckling. Stiles pulled her to him, sitting her down on the sofa. The little alpha strained against him for a moment, before settling down. 

“Let papa handle this,” Stiles murmured to his daughter, his fingers combing through her dark curls. “It will be okay, you are safe.” 

Stiles cursed under his breath as he lined the front door with a thick line of Mountain Ash. Something it seemed Stiles had taken upon himself to carry on his person. The sheriff could hear him muttering to himself as he worked. It sounded like he was repeating ‘be the spark.’ 

With a put upon sigh, Stiles pulled the front door open. He supposed he should be thankful it wasn’t the full pack. Though, it was the one pack member he dreaded seeing the most. 

“Hey there Sourwolf,” Stiles smirked at the alpha of the Hale pack. “Long time no see.” 

“Stiles,” Derek remained motionless on the front porch, still as taciturn as Stiles remembered. The more things changed, the more they stayed the same. 

“Why are you here?” Stiles leaned against the doorframe. 

“You know why I am here,” Derek growled, his eyes flashing crimson. 

“Nope, you don’t get to do that anymore,” Stiles chided. “I am not in your pack, so no pissing on trees.” 

“Stiles, let me in,” Derek’s voice was gruff. 

“No,” Stiles lifted an eyebrow. “Going to throw me against a wall now?” 

“Papa,” Missouri was at the door, obviously having escaped the Sheriff. She was trying to climb Stiles like a tree. The little girl sniffed the air, her eyes flashing red and hissed. “Go away, he is mine.” 

Stiles wanted to laugh at the display of dominance his little girl was attempting, but he was too busy watching Derek. During the three years he had been over his head in Beacon Hill’s werewolf hi-jinks, he had never seen that expression cross the Sourwolf’s face. 

On anybody else’s face, Stiles would have called it tender. 

Only Derek didn’t do tenderness. He did menacing really well, constipated confusion and baffled concern. But never had Stiles seen tenderness pass over those features. It was fascinating to watch. Because Derek was contrary to all of Stiles’ wishes, it was over before it even began. 

“Derek,” the sheriff approached the door. “It’s good to see you.” 

“Sheriff,” Derek managed a nod, without taking his eyes off of Missouri. It wasn’t the look of an alpha. It was the expression of a lost little boy. Stiles should know it well; it was a look he had seen in his own mirror. 

“Stiles and Missouri just got into town, maybe you could swing by tomorrow,” the sheriff stated diplomatically. “It’ll give me a chance to catch up.” 

Stiles looked at his dad, foreseeing the words before they could escape his mouth. 

“Why don’t you come to dinner tomorrow night?” The sheriff continued blithely on. “Stiles will cook.” 

“I will?” Stiles questioned, looking at Missouri and then his father. 

“You will,” they both piped up. 

“There is a new vegetarian tofu dish I’ve been dying to try,” Stiles smiled cheerfully at the loud groans filling the doorway. Even Derek looked slightly grossed out. “Hey! Low fat, low carbs and zero salt, how could you guys not like it?” 

“Papa, no,” Missouri tried to use her burgeoning alpha voice, but Stiles was immune to it. She would have better luck using those big grey eyes of hers. However, his little wolf had yet to figure that out. 

Derek tore his eyes away from the small family, and stepped away from the stoop. “So tomorrow.” 

“Come around at six,” the sheriff smiled at the older alpha. “I’ll order pizza if he follows through on his threat.” 

Derek nodded again, and with one last lingering look at Missouri was gone. 

Stiles herded his family back into the house, a grin tugging at his lips. Missouri was pulling on his hand, in that adorably eager way she had. 

“What’s up kiddo?” 

“Papa, who was that?” She asked, her forehead wrinkling up. 

“That is the local Sourwolf,” Stiles mock whispered to his daughter. “You should probably call him Derek though.” 

“Why is he called Sourwolf?” The little girl followed after her dad. “He’s awfully pretty, for a boy.” 

Stiles cackled all the way to the kitchen, clutching his stomach. “Remind me to tell him that, when he is being all grouchy.” 

“Papa, you won’t go and be part of his pack, right?” Missouri cuddled close to Stiles’ side. “You are part of my pack.” 

“No baby, I won’t,” Stiles paused for a moment. “Unless you want to be part of his pack.” 

Missouri froze, her eyes turning dark and stormy. 

“Derek’s pack isn’t like the one in Boston sweetie,” Stiles ran his fingers through his short shorn hair. “They would welcome you with open arms.” 

“What about you?” 

The sheriff paused in the doorway, listening intently to his son’s answer. 

“You and me, we are a package deal,” Stiles clucked her puckish chin. “They don’t get one without the other.” 

“Do you want to join?” Missouri questioned. 

“I think that you could learn a lot from Derek, things I don’t know.” 

“Papa, you know everything!” 

“I see you’ve trained her well,” the sheriff couldn’t help but speak up. 

“Of course!” Stiles laughed. “So what sounds good for dinner my lovelies?” 

Stiles could only lean against the kitchen table and smile as his two favorite people bickered playfully. It was good to be home. And this time, it looked like he was going to stay. 

It was way past Missouri’s bedtime, when Stiles finally crawled up the stairs. His dad and kid were passed out on the sofa, having exhausted themselves with Disney princess movies. He had several pictures stored on his phone, of them cuddling, that he was going to have printed and framed. Just in time for Christmas too. 

Stiles plopped down on his old bed, groaning at how good it felt. He rolled over and stared out his window. He needed to start making a list of things he had to get done, if he was serious about moving back to Beacon Hills. And Stiles found that he was. He had missed more than his father during the years he had been away. He wanted Missouri to have something stable and slow. Like he had as a kid, before his mom died. Hell, like he had before he knew about the existence of werewolves. 

Boston had been good, better than good. Part of the city’s draw had been that Stiles was able to stay anonymous. He was just another person on the street. He hadn’t been the sheriff’s kid, or that loser on the bench. Stiles found he wanted to belong somewhere again. And he wanted his daughter to belong. 

Derek could teach Missouri how to be pack. Not to mention he was the only wolf Stiles knew who could teach her about being a born were. 

Stiles fell asleep mentally making his list, finding a place of their own was right at the top. 

The next day, Stiles was enjoying his first trip to the market without a nagging child in three years. Not that Missouri had nagged the first year. Hell the child had barely spoken. But grocery shopping alone was a luxury Stiles hadn’t had forever. He planned to make use of every moment. 

His conscience pinged guiltily at the thought of Missouri running the police station ragged, while his dad indulgently watched on, but Stiles quashed the tiny voice ruthlessly. Missouri would have fun at the station, and his dad would enjoy showing her off to his co-workers. 

Maybe he would stop by and bring them some lunch. Just to check in.

Mrs. Turner, who Stiles had thought was an evil witch back in high school, smiled indulgently at him. She had been running the till since before Stiles had even been born. The smile was a nice change from the evil eye she had always bestowed on him as teen. 

“It’s good to see you back child,” Mrs. Turner practically cackled. “Planning on staying this time?” 

“Yes ma’am,” Stiles smiled cautiously back. He took no offense at being called a child. Anybody under the age of sixty, who came through her checkout, was called that. 

“You should check out the old house on Vermont, it has been empty too long.” 

“The old Mccalaster place?” Stiles asked, excitement bubbling in his stomach. “I love that house, it has so much potential.” 

“Too right it does,” the old lady handed Stiles his change. “Andy at the realtor just told me they dropped the price again.” 

“Why are they selling so cheap?” Stiles inquired, his heart still racing. 

“Who knows?” was her blithe reply. “Who cares. Snatch it up boy!” 

Stiles smiled at her, before grabbing his groceries. He had a house to look at, before stopping for lunch at the station. 

The jeep idled outside the house Stiles had loved since he was a kid. His mom used to take him on walks down this street to look at the leaves changing. Those were some of his most cherished memories. This one house in particular had always stood out to him. Maybe because it looked like a typical haunted house, like a beautiful woman faded with age and neglect. Saggy and weather torn. It had called to something in Stiles. The need to be a caretaker, perhaps. 

It was a need that had not abated in the years he had been gone. In fact, over the years it had only grown stronger. Maybe it was time to see if Stiles could bring the old lady back to her prime. 

Stiles never made it to the station for lunch. 

Two minutes before six, Derek’s sleek car pulled up behind the sheriff’s cruiser, just as the man was getting out. Missouri popped out of the passenger side, with a bounce that spoke of too much sugar. 

“Hey Sourwolf!” She called out, giggling. She fidgeted for a moment before bouncing towards him, before stopping. 

“Derek,” the sheriff greeted. “Right on time, let’s just keep our fingers crossed we aren’t getting baked tofu casserole.” 

Missouri hesitantly reached out and grabbed Derek’s fingers, leading him toward the front door. “Silly Poppy, I can smell steak,” she whispered to the older alpha. 

“Me too,” Derek whispered back. He wasn’t sure how to treat this child. It had been years since he had been around children. Since the fire. 

The sheriff followed behind the two alphas, a grin stretching across his face. Only to be stopped short by the image of Stiles dancing in the kitchen. Steak was sizzling on the grill outside, and a large salad was being tossed, rather literally by his hyper son. 

“Okay kid, what did you do and who do I have to bribe to keep you out of jail?” The sheriff asked seriously. 

“Jeez dad, chill out,” Stiles laughed, as he bent down and snagged Missouri in a hug. “Can’t a guy dance in the kitchen?” 

“Sure. But the last time you grilled steak, you told me about the existence of werewolves.” 

Stiles winced and shot an apologetic look in his dad’s direction. “Oops?” 

“So what did you do today?” The sheriff snagged a carrot from the salad. “I expected you to show up at the station with a thinly veiled excuse to check on me and my girl.” 

“Umm,” Stiles hedged. “I kinda, sorta bought a house.” 

The half bitten carrot fell to the floor.


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for the amazingly warm welcome to AO3! Thank you all for the kudos and comments! I hope you guys enjoy the update!

Stiles laughed nervously, at the expression on his dad’s face, as his announcement rang in the silent kitchen. His father’s face was a study of contradictions. Shock, censure and excitement all warred for dominance. 

Stiles went to his father, as the man sank into a slump at the kitchen table. “Dad—

Derek slipped out of the kitchen, Missouri at his heels, to save the steak from the grill. He could still hear the conversation in the kitchen, and he knew the little girl at his side could too. The least they could do was give the men inside the semblance of privacy for this conversation. 

“Papa says if I want to, I can join your pack,” Missouri spoke up, her hands steady as she offered up a large platter. 

Derek stilled, sizzling meat inches from the offered platter. “Do you want to join my pack?” He asked, as he dropped the steak gently. 

“I don’t know,” Missouri was honest. “Papa says you could teach me loads that he can’t. But Papa also knows everything.” 

“Your papa knows an awful lot,” Derek conceded. “However, I can teach you about being a born were.” 

“Me and Papa come as a package deal,” Missouri turned red eyes on Derek. “But he is mine.” 

Derek grinned at the show of aggression, and returned it with a bit of his own. “I knew him first.” 

“Yeah, but you lost him,” Missouri didn’t rise to the provocation. “Finders keepers.” 

“Fair enough,” Derek agreed lightly. “Just be careful not to lose him too.” 

Missouri sneaked closer to the older alpha. “How did you lose him? So I know not to make the same mistake.” 

“I was an idiot,” Derek confided. “An alpha should never let pride override common sense.” 

The female alpha nodded wisely. “What is common sense?” 

Stiles came to the back door at the sound of the Sourwolf laughing. He had only seen Derek laugh a couple of times in the years he had known him. It was a full body affair, his head thrown back, his throat exposed. Damn it. The man was still beautiful. His gut clenched at the sight of his daughter staring up at the alpha in awe. 

Derek sobered up quickly when he realized he had an audience. He turned to the grill, composing himself. He quickly lifted the last steak from the flames, before facing Stiles. “Dinner time?” 

“Dinner time!” Stiles grinned widely. “Come on Sourwolf and Sunshine, let’s eat!” 

Dinner, strangely enough was not the awkward affair Stiles had imagined it would be. Meals with Missouri rarely ever were. However, the little alpha didn’t carry the conversation. 

“So where is this house you bought?” The sheriff moaned around his mouthful of steak. 

“You remember the old Mccalaster house?” Stiles knew his dad did. 

“You and your mom loved that house when you were Missouri’s age.” 

“Still do!” Stiles forked up some salad. “In fact, I think we should all go for a walk and look at it after dinner is over. Maybe stop for ice cream.” 

“Ice cream!” Missouri crowed happily, tearing into her own steak. “I love ice cream! Sourwolf, do you like ice cream?” 

“I do,” Derek answered. “My favorite flavor is birthday cake.” 

“Oooh, that is a good choice,” Missouri nodded decisively. “I love them all. Except vanilla.”

Stiles made a face. “Vanilla is boring.” 

“Plebian!” The sheriff teased his son. “You need to refine your palate.” 

Stiles grinned at the good-natured ribbing before changing the subject. “So, how is the pack doing?” 

“It’s good,” Derek replied. 

Stiles waited for a moment, waiting for the stubborn man to continue. “Really? That’s all I get after eight years?” 

“Isaac is still going to the community college, I am pretty sure he is planning on becoming a professional student,” Derek tossed out randomly. “Boyd is a fire fighter, and Erica is a trainer at the local gym.” 

“What about Scott?” Stiles inquired softly. 

“He and Allison got married two years ago,” Derek replied just as softly. “He refused to have a best man. Scott said the position was already taken.” 

Stiles nodded silently. Not for the first time he felt selfish for leaving as he had. He had missed out on so much, but he couldn’t in the end regret his decision. It had brought him to Missouri after all. 

“They have been trying to get pregnant for ages,” Derek continued on. “It hasn’t taken. They keep trying.” 

“Did Scott become a vet?” 

“He did, he still works with Dr. Deaton.” 

“Lydia and Jackson?” 

“Beacon Hills was too small for them,” Derek said with a small smile. “They left after high school. Last time I heard, Lydia was still working on winning a Field’s medal and Jackson was coaching high school lacrosse.” 

Stiles laughed. “So everybody is happy and healthy!” 

“Yes. They are also happy that you are home,” Derek poked at the green stuff on his plate. “I had to battle Scott and Isaac to make them stay away last night and today. You should probably expect them on your doorstep first thing in the morning.” 

Missouri scooted closer to Derek, “do you beat up your pack?” Her eyes were avid, her puckish face excited. 

“Not anymore,” Derek grinned back at the girl’s blood-thirsty nature. Damn this little alpha reminded him of Laura. His sister had been just as competitive and vicious. 

“I bet I could take your betas down,” Missouri wiggled in her chair. “I would kick their asses!” 

“Language!” Stiles practically cackled at the chorus of male voices around the room. He knew he shouldn’t laugh; it would only encourage her, but damn. It was always funny when Missouri said bad words. 

Missouri pouted. “I bet I could though.” 

“I don’t know,” Stiles had always loved playing the devil’s advocate. “They are a pretty strong bunch.” 

Missouri growled, her fangs showing. “I’ll show you!” Her little hands were bunched into fists. 

“I bet you will,” Derek grinned again. “It will be a good lesson for the pack.” 

With a familiar sense of caprice, Missouri changed the subject, “time for ice cream now?” 

“Time for ice cream,” Stiles agreed. “Go grab your jacket. Dishes can wait until after.” 

The walk was not a long jaunt; the house was only two blocks away from the one Stiles had grown up in. The sheriff and Missouri were ahead of Stiles and Derek, as they meandered along, ice cream in hand. The older alpha took the chance to properly talk to the man he had once considered pack. Still did, if push came to shove. 

“She’s beautiful Stiles.” 

“She is,” Stiles agreed. “Afraid I don’t get to take any credit for that however.” 

“How did you meet her mom?” 

“I never did actually,” Stiles licked his peppermint cone. “She was a running omega, who died protecting Missouri.” 

Derek winced. It was, sadly enough, a common fate for omegas and alpha children without a pack. “How did you and Missouri come to be, in your little alpha’s words, a package deal?” 

Stiles hunched in his jacket, “my attempt at normalcy did not last long. Not even a month, truth be told.” 

“Did the Boston pack attack you?” Derek growled, a whole lot more menacing that Missouri. 

“No,” Stiles shook his head and laughed. “They left me alone for the most part. Though, they came to me for research often enough.” 

“Still a master of the Stilinski style google-fu?” Derek mocked. 

“You bet your rather fine ass, I am,” Stiles quipped back. “It’s how I make my living after all.” 

“So Missouri?” 

“Yeah, so I was the only human they knew, who wasn’t pack, that knew the big bad secret,” Stiles sighed. “She was practically a wild child, literally raised by a feral wolf.” 

“I bet it was hard,” Derek had heard stories of the feral children of the moon. They weren’t pretty and often ended in tragedy.

“She didn’t talk for almost a year, she wouldn’t sleep in a bed,” Stiles snorted. “And you don’t want to know how bath time went. 

“Missouri seems pretty well adjusted now,” Derek pointed out. 

“She is, and she isn’t,” Stiles looked at his daughter, adoration obvious. “Being in Beacon Hills will be good for her, and for me.” 

“Missouri asked about being pack earlier,” Derek spoke slowly. “She said it was your idea.” 

“Don’t get your hopes up Sourwolf, the decision will be Missouri’s.” Stiles was firm on this point. “But she is right, we are a package deal.”

“You’ve been pack for a long time, Stiles,” Derek murmured. “I thought you knew that.” 

“Bullshit,” Stiles could feel his ire building. “You never said a word.” 

“I honestly thought you knew,” Derek shot back. “How could you not know?” 

“Maybe because you never learned how to communicate efficiently!” Stiles shouted. 

“Maybe that is because you never learned to listen,” Derek growled, his eyes glowing red. 

Stiles stomped along for a several silent moments. The tension between Derek and him was both familiar and comfortable. This was like old times. That didn’t keep him from wanting to smack the infuriating bastard. 

“Fine, I should have told you,” Derek finally grumbled. 

“See, that didn’t hurt so bad, now did it?” Stiles smirked. “I am marking this day in my diary. The Mighty Derek Hale admitted he was wrong.” 

“Shut it Stiles, or I will slam your face into a steering wheel, again.” 

“Oh hush Sourwolf, you know you love me,” Stiles cackled and ran ahead to grab his princess around the waist. Missouri squealed in delight. 

Derek didn’t try to catch up. He had long ago come to the realization that he was in love with Stiles. It no longer looked as hopeless as it had when the human had been eighteen and anxious to leave.


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for reading! Seriously, you are all amazing! I have to thank fabulous Ferus37 for the beta read. All mistakes are mine. Enjoy the update!

It’s two days before Christmas, and Stiles is on Skype with Damian trying to sort out his apartment in Boston. His friend and neighbor was still too busy laughing to be of any help. Stiles sort of hated his choice in friends. Like he had any choice with Damian. The bastard was a leech when it came to hanging around. 

“Why am I friends with you again,” Stiles asked sourly, as he steadily continued on writing his to-do list. 

“I was the only person who could put up with your insane rambling, back in college,” Damian snarked. “Not to mention, it’s all thanks to me that you got that super cushy job that lets you work from home, even if you are uprooting yourself and planting your ass two thousand miles away.” 

“Yeah, sure Damian.” Stiles laughed. “So you’ll pack up the apartment for me?” 

“You know I will,” Damian returned. “I am tempted to drive the moving truck myself, just so I can finally see who the guy is, who inspired our most popular hero.” 

“Dam, you get lost if you try and go further than two blocks past your favorite bodega.” Stiles ignored the other part of his friend’s comment. 

“It happened once, and you never let me forget it,” Damian grumbled. “But seriously, he’s there, right? The guy who inspired Alpha?” 

Stiles groaned again, wishing he could bash his head against his computer. When he had first graduated college, his bachelor degree firmly under his belt, he had no idea what he was going to do with it. Then Dam had come to him with an idea. An off the wall idea. One that was so crazy, Stiles was sure it would never work. Only it did. And now they were doing what they loved, and getting paid ridiculous sums of money to do it. Stiles had written the storyline of a RPG video game, about werewolves. He had played more than his fair share of RPGs, and knew what worked and what didn’t. Dam, the artist, had illustrated it. 

The company they had submitted it to had snapped it up. They had loved the concept of the hero being a borderline villain, before he showed his true heroic colors. Alpha had been an instant success with the RPG gaming community. The company had hired Stiles and Dam to create the storylines and the visual concepts of the sequels. Stiles found himself researching monsters more often than not, looking for the unique and scary. He loved it. Stiles got to feed his need for knowledge, get paid to game, all while staying home and taking care of his kiddo. 

Life didn’t get much better, in his opinion. 

“Yeah, he’s here,” muttered Stiles, running his hand through his short hair. 

“Hot damn!” Damian crowed. “I’ll be there before New Years,” the man cut Stiles off before he could even begin to start talking again. “Listen, I want to see you and the princess. I’m used to seeing you guys daily. This is going to be a rough transition for me.” 

“Hey, we are going to miss you too, Damian,” Stiles spoke adamantly. “But it isn’t like we can’t visit, and vice versa.” 

“Yeah, but who is going to pull you together when you are lost in a research spiral?” Damian teased. “Or who is going to tell me to go take a shower after I’ve been illustrating for a week straight?” 

“I’m sure I’ll still be able to smell you from here,” Stiles joked. “You get funky rank.” 

“Shut up Stilinksi, you are ruining this moment,” Dam muttered. “Look, I’ll see you in a week.” 

“There is no talking you out of this,” Stiles laughed. “Whatever, see you in a week.” 

He shut down Skype, and pondered his list a bit longer. Stiles could hear Missouri’s soft snuffling snores, and took a moment to just enjoy his life. First thing he needed to do was find a company to give his house, and Stiles couldn’t help the sense of accomplishment that phrase brought, a bit of renovation. He didn’t want the house stripped of personality. Stiles just wanted it livable. He also needed to get Missouri enrolled in the elementary school here. He could only hope that the teachers wouldn’t remember his antics, and hold it against his daughter. Stiles didn’t know who he was trying to kid, he was sure his picture was still in the school office, with a warning to not allow on the premise.

It wasn’t like Stiles had blown up the art lab on purpose. 

Stiles wasn’t sure how Missouri was taking the decision to move. The little girl didn’t seem perturbed or upset with the idea, she didn’t seem excited either. Her and her poppy got along fabulously, a mutual adoration that was wonderful to witness. But the house seemed to hold little interest for her, the idea of school even less so. The only thing that really seemed to perk her interest was Derek and his pack. Missouri was raring to meet them, not to mention trying to beat them up. 

The doorbell ringing drew Stiles from his worries. He looked over at Missouri, checking that she was still sleeping. He shouldn’t have worried. His little alpha could, and often did, sleep through anything. Stiles thundered down the stairs, knowing who he would see when he tossed open the front door. 

Scott threw himself forward, wrapping Stiles in a bear hug the minute the door was opened. Stiles laughed and hugged his friend back. He could see Allison and Isaac one step behind Scott. Boyd and Erica lingering several paces behind them. The awkwardness that could have happened dissipated instantly. Before Stiles really knew what had happened he was on the floor, in a sweaty puppy pile. 

Isaac was the clingiest, as he had always been. Once Stiles had gotten past his rather scary demeanor, he had realized that Isaac was really a touch-starved teen, desperate for affection. Derek had given him positive reinforcement, but it had fallen to Stiles to give him comfort. Leaving Isaac had been one of the hardest parts of leaving Beacon Hills. 

Taking care of Isaac had given Stiles the tools to take of Missouri when she had first arrived in his life. The little alpha had been practically feral, un-socialized and vicious. Isaac had taught him to remain calm and never show his fear. To keep trying, until the comfort and love he gave freely was accepted. 

Isaac’s blonde curls tickled Stile’s throat, as the beta mumbled into his chest. “Missed you.” 

“Missed you too,” Stiles mumbled back, tears prickling his eyes. “Missed all of you.” 

“Why didn’t you come back sooner?” Scott asked from Stiles’ other side. “Derek said you would come back when you were ready, and to leave you alone.” 

“I wasn’t ready to come back,” Stiles petted Scott’s unruly dark hair. “Didn’t mean I didn’t want to though.” 

Erica and Boyd were silent, but they pressed closer to Stiles. For both of them, Stiles had been a constant. Derek had given them power, had trained them, sometimes viciously. But Stiles had been the one to show them affection and caring. Things they had not been able to get from their families. He had been the one to organize pack movie nights, to bake them cookies. To give them the attention they had never received before the bite. 

Stiles hadn’t realized he was pack. And the entire time he had been their pack mom. 

Allison sighed from her position next to Scott. Her slender, calloused fingers tangled in Stiles’. She was probably the only one of the pack who had understood why he had left. It was hard to be human and pack. To never feel completely at home within the hierarchy. It had taken her years to stop feeling like a liability, and she was deadly with a bow. 

“Papa?” A sleepy voice called from the top of the stairs. 

“Come on down kiddo,” Stiles called back. 

He could feel the betas tighten up. Hackles bristling as his little alpha came down the stairs. The pack didn’t meet other alphas often. Bad memories associated with the alpha pack most likely. But how they could see a threat in a sleep mused child, dressed in her Hello Kitty pajama would never cease to amuse him. 

Missouri stood over the puppy pile, a look of sleepy consternation on her expressive face. She crawled over Boyd and Erica so that she had the best position, atop of Stiles’ chest. She snuggled in tight, and growled the betas into submission. The pack relaxed, as sleepiness over took them all. 

That is how the sheriff found them, an hour later. 

Stiles shot his dad a sheepish look, as he slowly detangled himself from the puppy pile. Missouri was drooling on Isaac, as the weres shifted closer together. 

“So the pack came to visit today,” the sheriff stated. 

“Yep,” Stiles returned. 

Stiles’ dad hid his smirk behind his hand, “did Missouri try to kick their asses yet?” 

“Not yet,” Stiles stifled a cackle. “I am sure that will be happening later. Probably after lunch.” 

“So what are your plans for the rest of the day?” The sheriff inquired, as he watched Stiles start to whip up something healthy for lunch.

“I haven’t had a chance to look into restoration crews yet,” Stiles paused as he cut up carrots for a salad. “So I’ll probably start there.” 

“You should talk to Derek,” Isaac said from the door. “After you left, he restored the old Hale house.” 

“Seriously?” Stiles didn’t bother hiding his shock. 

“Did you really think we would all still be living in an abandoned warehouse, eight years later?” Erica piped up, as she grabbed a carrot from the pile. 

Stiles opened his mouth and closed it again. That was a fair point. He really shouldn’t keep making assumptions. 

Boyd slid in behind Erica, wrapping his arm around her waist. “When he has a new project, we help out.” 

“So Derek works construction now?” Stiles cocked his head, trying to picture it. It wasn’t a bad mental image. Derek all gross and sweaty, playing with power tools, was surprisingly hot. 

“Sometimes,” Isaac answered. “When he isn’t busy at the shop.” 

“Shop?” Stiles’ head was spinning. 

“Maybe you should ask him,” Boyd muttered. 

“Ask me what?” Derek inquired, as he stepped into the kitchen. 

“You do restoration work?” Stiles blurted out. “When you are not working in the shop? What shop?” 

“I like working with my hands,” Derek muttered defensively. “I opened a bookstore on Main Street,” he continued like he hadn’t blown Stiles’ world apart with the admission. 

“You opened a bookstore?” Stiles knew he was gaping like an idiot, and he couldn’t stop.

“I like to read.” If Stiles didn’t know the alpha was physically incapable of it, he would think Derek was blushing, as he continued to mumble. 

Stiles’ was jerked from watching Derek act like a sheepish pup, by an excited scream from the living room. Derek pushed against his back, as Stiles stopped in the doorway. Missouri was on top of Scott, holding the beta down, baring her fangs. Allison was off to the side; laughing so hard tears were streaming down her face. 

Stiles stepped closer to Allison, as Missouri growled at Scott. “What’s going on?” 

Allison could barely talk through her giggles, “Scott tried to tell Missouri that Hello Kitty wasn’t appropriate for her.” 

Stiles nodded as he watched his little girl dominate the older beta. Derek stopped pushing at his shoulder as the older man took in the scene. The alpha seemed more amused than disgruntled. 

“Papa, he said I should have wolverine pajamas,” Missouri roared. “I am going to make him take it back.” 

“What’s wrong with Wolverine?” Stiles asked, curiously. 

“He’s a boy!” Missouri howled in rage. “A stupid boy!” 

“So is your papa,” Allison interjected jovially. 

“Papa doesn’t count,” Missouri was adamant. “Neither does Poppy or Sourwolf.” 

“Why doesn’t Derek count?” Scott pouted from his position beneath Missouri. “He totally has cooties.” 

“Yeah, but he is not stupid,” Missouri was fierce. “He is an alpha and papa likes him.” 

Stiles refused to turn red, as his daughter totally outed him to the pack. He had a feeling he failed miserably, as the betas all grinned at him. “Whose ready for lunch?” 

“Me!” Missouri crowed, as she jumped off Scott. “Did you make little weenies? I want little weenies!” 

Stiles grinned at the excited looks he was receiving from the rest of the pack. These guys were too easy.   
“Yeah kiddo, lil smokies are totally on the menu, but you have to eat salad too.” 

The entire pack groaned in unison. 

Hours later, after the majority of the pack had gone home, Derek was still hanging around the sheriff’s house. Stiles didn’t seem to mind, and neither did Missouri. Derek could not stop watching the pair. They were so natural together. The little alpha was lying on her stomach, as she drew furiously. Stiles was sprawled out on the sofa, typing away on his computer. Derek was holding a book in his hands, but he couldn’t focus long enough to read it. 

“Hey Sourwolf, maybe you could give me an estimate on the restoration work on the house,” Stiles spoke out of nowhere. “We could go over after dinner.” 

“Papa, we still have to go out and get a tree!” Missouri reminded him sternly. “Not a stinky fake tree either. A real one, you promised this year.” 

“We’ll go and get one tomorrow,” Stiles mumbled, looking slightly guilty. In all of the excitement, he had totally forgotten about that promise. “Maybe we can go to the woods and cut one down.” 

“You want to kill a tree?” Missouri looked appalled at his blood-thirsty attitude towards the local flora. “What did the poor innocent trees ever do to you?” 

Stiles ran his fingers through his hair, “I have to admit I was trying not to think about it that way.” 

Missouri turned her big grey eyes on Derek, solemn and sad, “Papa is a tree killer.” 

Stiles choked on air, as Derek turned his own large eyes on the little alpha. “Does it count if he plants a tree in the spring?” 

“I don’t know,” Missouri looked thoughtful. “I just don’t want a stinky fake tree again this year.” 

“Oh,” Stiles breathed softly. “I have an idea.” 

“What Papa?” Missouri wiggled closer. “Tell me.” 

“You’ll find out tomorrow night,” Stiles winked at his daughter. 

“No, tell me now,” Missouri pouted. “I hate surprises.” 

“Too bad, kiddo,” Stiles stood, his back popping loudly as he stretched. “It’s bed time.” 

Missouri grumbled all the way stairs, and into bed. She was still muttering sleepy, when Stiles turned off the overhead light. 

“So you want to go and explore the local haunted house that I just bought?” Stiles asked Derek, who was still sitting on the sofa. 

“Yes,” Derek stood slowly, placing the book on the table. 

“Awesome, just let me go secure a babysitter for my brat.” 

“Hey dad!” Stiles raised his voice just a bit, knowing his father would not welcome his presence in the garage. Where Stiles knew he was wrapping gifts. “Can you keep an eye on Missouri, she’s already in bed?” 

“Sure,” the sheriff shouted back. “I’ll even keep two eyes on her.” 

“Thanks dad,” Stiles herded Derek in front of him, attempting to the house quickly, like a man whose babysitter had changed their mind about watching their kid before. 

“Enjoy your date,” called the sheriff. 

Both Derek and Stiles paused on the top step. “This is not a date,” Stiles reassured Derek. 

“Right,” Derek started walking. 

“Unless you want it to be a date,” Stiles continued to ramble as he caught up with the alpha. “It has been awhile since I’ve been on one. Having a child is not exactly conducive to dating.” 

“Stiles,” Derek turned his head towards the babbling man, “Shut up. 

“Right, shutting up,” Stiles reassured him. “Though, if you change your mind about this outing being a date, just let me know.” 

The two-block walk was quiet, in a comfortable way. It wasn’t filled with the tension Stiles remembered from high school. Back then, his and Derek’s interactions had always been nerve wracking. Some days Stiles had been sure Derek was going to rip his throat out. Others had been filled with a different type of tension. Tension that Stiles had been forced to relieve, several times a day, in fact. And then Stiles had to worry that the pack could smell that on him. It had been a vicious cycle. 

So yeah, this lack of tension was fabulous. Except for the fact that Stiles still wanted to kiss Derek Hale like a drowning man wanted oxygen. That hadn’t changed a bit in the past eight years. Damn it. 

Stiles pulled the old key to the house from his pocket as they approached the building. “I had the electricity turned on this morning.” 

Derek nodded, as he walked into the house. It was beautiful. Neglected, but he could see the love and care that the original builder had put into it. This house had been more than just a house. It had been an expression of love. 

“I see why you love this house so much,” he murmured. “It’s lovely.” 

Stiles nodded, “I don’t want to strip it of personality, I just want it inhabitable, for now.” 

“If my crew started now, we could have it ready to move into at the beginning of February,” Derek stated. “It’s not extensive, just patching the roof and some drywall. Stripping the floors. A bit of paint outside.” 

Stiles was practically bouncing in excitement. “That is awesome! I didn’t think it could happen so soon.” 

Derek didn’t know what possessed him. Maybe it was Stiles’ excitement, which was contagious. It could have been the fact that they were alone for the first time in eight long years. Derek pushed Stiles against the door, a familiar position for both of them. However, he had never before leaned forward and pressed his lips to Stiles’ mobile mouth. Even if he had thought about it a time or two. 

Stiles froze against the door, not terribly surprised to find himself shoved against a hard surface. It was sort of a requirement for hanging out with the Sourwolf. The firm lips and abrasive stubble were definitely different than how this usually ended though, at least in the past. Stiles was not one to hesitate. Being impulsive was in his nature. So he opened his mouth and kissed Derek back. 

Eager hands clutched the alpha’s shoulders, as Stiles groaned. Derek threaded his fingers in the man’s short hair, pouring years of frustrated longing into the kiss. Derek only drew back when he felt his canines descending. 

Stiles nipped Derek’s chin when the man pulled away. “Come back here.” 

Derek opened his eyes, knowing that the red was shining through. “You never did learn patience.” 

“It took us over a decade to kiss, how much patience do you want me to have?” Stiles laughed. 

“Just a bit more,” Derek groaned and kissed the human one last time before leading him from the house.


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everybody is having an awesome Christmas Eve (or Christmas) wherever they are! Thanks as always for reading, commenting and the kudos! Many thanks to my beta Ferus37, who always knows how to spurn me on!

Stiles was still floating, as he fought the insane crowds at the mall. Derek freaking Hale had finally kissed him. It was a teenage dream come true. He smiled at a harried looking mom with three toddlers having a melt down. The dirty look she shot back didn’t even faze him. Stiles didn’t care; he was all about spreading holiday cheer. His Christmas shopping was done, and now he was on his way home. He still had to prepare his surprise for Missouri, but that would be fun for all involved. Stiles had a plan. He would sit his girl down in front of all the family favorite Christmas movies and put her to work. 

His mom used to do the same thing with him. Stiles couldn’t believe he had never done this with Missouri before. To be honest, it had never crossed his mind in Boston. In Beacon Hills it felt right. He was honoring his mother, and giving his daughter a new tradition. It was perfect. 

Stiles hummed off key as he approached his jeep, his arms laden with bags and goodies. Only to be slammed against it, scattering his elf wrapped gifts. Stiles struggled with the wiry arm wrapped around his throat, only to be hampered by the few bags that had not scattered across the parking lot. Remembering the self-defense his father had instilled in him at an early age, Stiles went limp, letting all of his body weight lean against the form behind him. 

As the body shifted to adjust to the sudden change in dynamic, Stiles slammed his head backwards. He could hear the delicate cartilage snapping with the forceful blow. He struggled forward, as his attacker loosened his grip. Stiles whirled around and kicked the man in the crotch, as he fought to get his breath back. 

“Back the fuck off,” Stiles growled, as he shifted his weight, ready to attack again. “I don’t have time for this shit today.” 

“You’re right,” his attacker, who looked vaguely familiar to Stiles, replied. “You are out of time, because I am going to kill you. And then I am going to rip your daughter’s throat out.” 

Stiles could literally feel his lip draw back as he snarled at the feral wolf in front of him. “The fuck you are.” 

“How are you going to stop me?” The man asked. “You are just some weak, pitiful human.” 

“Then why are you the one bleeding?” Stiles sneered. He knew that man’s face. From where, when? Why did it matter? 

“Lucky shot,” the were growled, not bothering to wipe at the blood streaming down his face. “It won’t matter. Your family won’t be able to identify your remains when I am done with you.” 

“Maybe, maybe not,” Stiles couldn’t help but laugh at the threat. “But my pack will.”

The were flinched. 

“Yeah, pack,” Stiles taunted recklessly. “Do you seriously think Derek Hale is just going to let you kill a pack member and let you survive?” 

“Who the hell is Derek Hale, and why would he care that I killed some human bitch, who talks too fucking much?” 

It was an insult Stiles had heard before. But right now, talking was his ticket out of this situation. Talking would distract him from the sirens Stiles could hear in the distance. “Seriously, you don’t know who Derek Hale is?” Stiles scoffed. “Even the Argents are too scared to fuck with him.” 

The were blanched, taking a step back from Stiles. It was too late however. His dad’s patrol car cut off his escape route. Luckily, the man wasn’t so far gone to try and shift in front of so many witnesses. A shotgun, loaded with what Stiles knew to be wolfsbane bullets, was pointed at his attacker. 

Stiles sagged in relief, as his dad arrested the man. Jail wouldn’t hold him, but the threat of hunters would run him off. That is, if the pack didn’t decide to enact some sort of ritual disembowelment as punishment for entering their territory. It wouldn’t be more than the bastard deserved for threatening Missouri. 

The sheriff approached Stiles after securing the werewolf. “You alright, son?” 

“Yeah, just desperate to be home with Missouri,” Stiles mumbled. “This hasn’t happened in a while.” 

“It’s happened before?” The sheriff looked appalled and borderline pissed. 

“Yeah, on occasion,” Stiles mumbled. “Until it got around that I could take care of myself and Missouri. This guy hadn’t gotten that message.” 

“Well, it’s over now,” the sheriff conceded. “Let’s get you home.” 

“Thanks dad.” 

Half an hour later, Stiles was walking through the front door. He could hear Missouri chattering a mile a minute to Allison, and he could smell cookies baking. There was a moment of silence before both Missouri and Scott were barreling into the living room. His little alpha climbed him like a tree, her canines distended, as she smelled his neck and hair. 

“Papa,” she growled menacingly. “You smell wrong.” 

“I know kiddo,” Stiles smiled at her. “I will jump in the shower in a bit.” He flinched as he felt Scott snuffling around the back of his neck. “Man, quit that.” 

Scott’s eyes were amber and fur was starting to sprout in odd places. “I need to call Derek,” he muttered with a glance at Allison. 

“Hey, I took care of it,” Stiles protested. “Derek really doesn’t need to know.” 

“This is our territory, and he threatened pack,” Scott growled. “Derek needs to know.” 

“Oh come on, you know how he’ll get!” Stiles protested. “He’ll get all growly and grumpy. And it’s Christmas Eve.” 

“Too late,” Derek growled. He plucked Missouri off of Stiles, who didn’t protest the treatment. The alpha handed her to Scott, before pressing Stiles gently against the door. 

Any protest Stiles might have had died in a heartbeat, as Derek scented his throat. The human let his head thump against the door, as he tried not to moan at the ill treatment. Missouri was back to chattering a mile a minute to Scott and Allison as they led her out of the room. Stiles bit his lip, as Derek’s lips followed the same path. 

“Why didn’t you call me,” Derek asked quietly. 

“There wasn’t time,” Stiles whispered back. “I handled it.” 

“I don’t like it,” Derek murmured into the soft skin of Stiles’ earlobe. “I want to rip his throat out.” 

“Later,” Stiles permitted with no hesitation. “Just not tonight, it’s Christmas Eve.” 

“Have plans already?” Derek muttered, laving at Stiles’ clavicle. 

“Mm,” Stiles was ready to climb the alpha like a tree. “Have a tree to decorate and Santa to play.” 

“Have room for one more?” 

“Totally,” Stiles groaned quietly. “In fact, I think it would be nice if the pack helped with the tree.”

“And playing Santa?” Derek murmured into the firm underbelly of Stiles’ chin. 

“I was hoping you could play Mrs. Claus to my Santa tonight,” Stiles laughed. 

Derek pulled back, his grin feral. “That sounds like fun.” 

“That’s not what I meant, pervert,” Stiles cackled. “Maybe later, if you have the energy, after assembling toys.” 

Derek kissed him softly, “that sounds like a plan.” 

The alpha wrangled his betas into helping Missouri string popcorn and fresh cranberries into garlands, until they had enough to wrap a tree farm in. The sound of the Stilinksi men’s favorite Christmas movies was playing in the background. Every once in awhile, the chattering would stop, as everybody watched their favorite sequences of Die Hard, Lethal Weapon and Gremlins. It wasn’t typical or traditional, and Derek loved every minute of it. 

He had an idea what Stiles was up to when he pulled a bag of pinecones out of the jeep. Missouri jumped on the chance to help paint them with a mixture of peanut butter and oil, before rolling them in seeds. Derek had been entrusted with tying the finished pinecones with string. A mindless job thankfully, since he was a bit distracted with wanting to lick the smudges peanut butter off Stiles’ face, which he normally would have found disgusting. 

It wasn’t only Missouri who was bouncing with excitement, when dusk finally began to fall, and Stiles bundled her into her coat. The entire pack was bursting with energy. Every single member of their pack had a basket of goodies. Even the sheriff had one slung over his arm, as he followed Stiles good-naturedly into the woods. It was a game, one that they all enjoyed. But Derek knew Stiles had an end game in mind. 

The alpha was proven right, when Stiles stopped in front of majestic tree in a large grove. It was one Derek had seen decorated in the past, as a child. He had always wondered who would come out here on Christmas Eve to feed the birds and squirrels. 

Stiles helped Missouri with her garlands, leaving the higher boughs to the dexterous betas. Soon enough, the tree was covered in popcorn and cranberry garlands, nut rolled pinecones and ornaments of dried fruits. It was beautiful. 

And Stiles didn’t even have to kill a tree to do it. 

Missouri threw her arms around her Papa happily. “I like my surprise!” She announced to the world at large. “It’s perfect.” 

“I’m glad kiddo,” Stiles murmured back. “Me and my mom used to do this every year” 

“Can we all do it next year, too?” Missouri asked. “I’m glad we are staying.” 

Stiles smiled down at his daughter, his fingers tangling with Derek’s. “Me too princess, me too.”


	6. Chapter Six

Stiles groaned in relief as he finally finished putting together the last evil contraption that Santa had brought for Missouri. If he saw another box with those three evil words before next year, he was going to go ballistic. Seriously. Some Assembly Required was a phrase that should be struck from the English language. Derek had been no help. The alpha had passed out on the sofa three boxes into the night. Bits of wrapping and paper stuck in his hair from clumsy fingers. The alpha was exhausted no doubt by the tiny screws and incompressible directions supplied by toymakers across the world. Stiles was a bit blown away by how right this felt.

After they had finished their tree, the pack had come back to the sheriff’s house for eggnog and cookies. Missouri had fallen asleep easily, which was not a normal occurrence in the three years Stiles had had her. Normally, she fought to stay awake like a wild thing. No amount of bribery or threats to tell Santa had ever worked. Enter Derek and his damn alpha voice, and the little girl was asleep peacefully, a happy little smile tugging at her cherub bow lips. 

Stiles would seriously hit the man, if he didn’t like him so much. He glanced at the clock, groaning internally. Missouri would be up in about two hours, eager to see what Santa had brought her. Stiles crawled onto the sofa, cuddling up to Derek’s side. He couldn’t resist kissing the slumbering man’s throat softly. 

Derek woke abruptly, his eyes glowing in the darkness. “What time is it,” he grumbled, relaxing when he realized it was Stiles in his space. 

“Ass crack of oh my god,” Stiles muttered in return. “Missouri will be thundering down the stairs in about two hours.” 

“Mmm,” Derek nodded, pulling Stiles closer. 

Stiles yawned into Derek’s shoulder, before closing his eyes. He wanted to make the most of their private time together, he just couldn’t. He was too damn tired. Stiles didn’t even open eyes as Derek rearranged them. He just sighed, and enjoyed being pressed into the back of the couch by Derek’s firm body. It was perfect. Better than any sleep number bed. 

Two minutes hadn’t passed, because Stiles had just closed his damn eyes, when Missouri came tearing into the room. 

“Presents! Papa, get up!” Missouri practically yowled in excitement. “I already woke up poppy.” 

“Can you turn on the coffee pot,” Stiles muttered around a mouthful of Derek’s shirt. 

“Silly Papa, I already did,” Missouri grinned. “But poppy says you have to get up and get your own coffee. Only he said some bad words too.” 

Stiles groaned again, trying to bury himself under Derek’s bigger form. 

Only the alpha rolled them over and dropped Stiles off the edge of the sofa. “Go get coffee,” he grumped. “And bring me some too.” 

Stiles didn’t pout. He certainly didn’t whine as he stumbled his way into the kitchen, the Mecca of coffee. When he came back into the living room, he had a tray of coffee for the men and a hot chocolate for Missouri. Derek made gimme hands, and Stiles only briefly considered withholding the beverage as punishment for his rude awakening. When Derek pulled out his lost puppy eyes, Stiles knew he was lost. He caved and handed the piping hot coffee to the smug looking alpha. 

He was going to have to grow some thicker skin, if he was going to survive this burgeoning relationship with his spine intact. 

The sheriff made an odd sound, causing Stiles to look over at him. 

“I think I just threw up a bit in my mouth, so give me my damn coffee so I can wash it down,” the man grumped. “Damn kids and their out of control hormones.” 

Stiles grinned at his dad, before plopping back down next to Derek. There was no artificial tree with lights to brighten the room, but the multi colored fairy lights they had put up around the windows and mantle were more than enough. It was nice, sitting on the sofa with Derek, watching Missouri tear into her gifts. 

Occasionally, a gift would be passed to Stiles or his dad, not to mention to a baffled looking Derek. The alpha would handle them with both reverence and the care somebody would handle a live bomb. It was a combination that Stiles found endearing. It made him want to shower Derek with gifts, just to see that peculiar expression cross his face. 

Missouri seemed to find it just as entertaining. She was watching Derek avidly as he opened his presents. She was almost more excited about his gifts, than her own. 

Stiles couldn’t say what he had gotten from Santa. He was too busy enjoying the people around him. It was a perfect day. 

Even if the bike he had put together in the middle of the night fell apart, as Missouri tried to ride it down the sidewalk. Derek was too busy laughing his rather fine ass off, to help him pick up the pieces and parts. 

“Remind me not to have you help with the renovations,” Derek gasped for breath. “You would probably knock the house down around our heads. 

“I will have you know, I am perfectly capable of household repairs,” Stiles growled, advancing towards his Sourwolf. 

“All evidence to the contrary,” Derek smirked back. 

“Obviously, the bike’s assembly manual was faulty,” Stiles shoved the alpha. 

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” Derek’s eyes flashed red for a brief moment. 

“I know what would help me sleep tonight,” Stiles murmured softly. 

Derek nuzzled Stiles’ cheek. “Me too.” 

“Seriously, you two!” The sheriff yelled from the window. “Get a damn room.” 

Missouri raced over to Stiles, knocking him further into Derek. “Papa, I want to write Santa a strongly worded letter,” she sniffed disdainfully. “He brought me a broken present.” 

“I don’t think that’ll be necessary love,” Stiles smirked at Derek. “Sourwolf here will fix it right up for you.” 

Stiles sat on the porch, drinking a fresh cup of coffee as he watched his daughter pester Derek with questions. The alpha in question was patiently answering them, as he sweated over all the small bolts and nuts that seemed to have no place in the small purple bike. Stiles grinned at the disgruntled look on his Sourwolf’s face. 

Beacon Hills hadn’t changed a whole lot in the years he had been gone. It was still slow moving, except when it wasn’t. Derek was still grumpy. The sheriff still snuck fries when he thought Stiles wasn’t looking. But he couldn’t think of a place he would rather be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it was a short ending! I promise an epilogue for New Years though! I was hoping to fit some sexy times in the main story, but it just didn't seem to fit with the mood. So Happy Holidays! I hope the fluff of this story didn't rot your teeth out! Thanks as always for reading, commenting and the kudos! 
> 
> Keep an eye out for the epilogue!


End file.
